


Black Swan || Dragon King

by Masu_Trout



Category: Deus Ex (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Breathplay, Choking, Clothed Sex, Hate Sex, M/M, Undercover Missions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-07-08 20:21:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15937571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Masu_Trout/pseuds/Masu_Trout
Summary: Rather than sending him to infiltrate TF29, the Juggernaut Collective has Adam go undercover with ARC.Viktor Marchenko wasn't expecting interference. And he certainly wasn't expectingthis.





	Black Swan || Dragon King

**Author's Note:**

  * For [originally](https://archiveofourown.org/users/originally/gifts).



> Your prompts were incredibly inspiring, and I really hope you enjoy this result!

Viktor found Adam leaning against the shipping crates that had been repurposed into Golem City's labyrinthine walls. He was staring vaguely over a railing at the city below, a cigarette clamped between two black fingers; as Marchenko watched, he pulled a lighter from one of his coat pockets.

"I wouldn't, brother," Viktor said as Adam lifted the cigarette to his mouth, stepping forward with a heavy mechanical noise. "What would Talos say?" 

He'd meant to surprise—one of the advantages of his augs, he made noise only when he wanted to and when he wanted to he made a _lot_ —but Adam didn't so much as jump. He just tilted his head to catch a better glimpse of Viktor, expression unreadable beneath the the ever-present glasses welded to his skull, and asked, "What _would_ he say?"

"Ah. You know him." Viktor shrugged, joints in his shoulders and collar creaking against each other. "Once a doctor, always a doctor. _They'll drive you to an early grave, my friend_ ," he said in a not-especially-convincing mimicry of their leader's voice.

Hypocrite he was; Talos stashed the empty bottles where he thought they wouldn't be found, never realizing how obvious his slurred voice and ruddy cheeks were. He was going to drink himself to an early, _early_ grave. But—not yet. And not until Adam Jensen was out of the picture, it seemed. The man's arrival had thrown a wrench into just about everyone's plans. Including Viktor's.

Viktor hadn't expected much out of the man when he first showed up in Golem City: another new clank, shinier than most and therefore also more likely to be a brain-dead fool. Normally Viktor went around to the new scrap-heap rejects in person, looking for those who might hear _justice_ and _revolution_ and think _hope_ , but for this one he hadn't bothered. The American, he'd been sure, would be selling his body within the week and dead within the month. 

He'd underestimated Adam. He wasn't the first to have made that particular mistake, he suspected, but it didn't make the realization sting any less.

Adam took a long, slow drag on his cigarette, then let the smoke spill out from the corners of his mouth and drift towards the distant, hazy patches of light that shone far above them. The gaps in Golem's walls and ceiling left just enough space for water to seep into the city below whenever it rained, but didn't catch enough sunlight to make growing food feasible. The worst of both worlds.

"Well," Adam said with a shrug, "I can't get lung cancer. So no problems there." Even here, alone with no one but Viktor and a multi-story fall, he didn't falter for a moment as Viktor stalked closer.

The problem with Adam, Viktor thought as he pressed himself into the man's personal space, was that he did not _impress_. None of ARC's followers cheered over his exploits the way they cheered over Viktor's: the police drone he'd snatched out of the air and crushed between his hands, the nosy officers he'd singlehandedly driven from ARC's bunkers, the rumors of things he'd done back in Lukyanivska that grew and grew with each telling. Adam was unassuming, soft-spoken. He used words where others would use fists. _Weak._

And so it was not until several weeks after the man's arrival at Golem City that Viktor had looked up and realized that Adam had already managed to ingratiate himself into ARC's inner circle more thoroughly than even Viktor himself. 

"Not at all?" Viktor asked, looking down at Adam. He settled next to him on the railing, so close their shoulders were nearly brushing. He could have pretended he only wanted to share the view, but any reassurances would unconvincing coming from him. Let Adam assume what he wanted. "What a neat trick. If only we could all by as shiny as you, brother." He smiled. Between his scars and the cluster of sensors that was his right eye, his smiles never looked friendly.

No flinch from Adam as Viktor plucked the cigarette from between his sleek black fingers. Even using his flesh-like hand, his fingers dwarfed the cigarette; he'd meant to press it to his own lips, but instead he found himself crushing it flat before his hand made it even halfway up.

Viktor held it for a moment, the burning paper sending distant feedback notifications through his augmentations, before snarling and dropping it to the ground. Fucking rationing. His augmentations never got any smaller, but the cigarettes did.

Adam just glanced over at him, eyebrows raised above the rim of his glasses-port in what could have been a smile or a challenge. " _Really_ not a fan, huh?"

Viktor's eye narrowed. For a moment, it was all he could do to keep from grabbing Adam by the back of his obscenely-fancy trenchcoat and throwing him right over the railing. A simple method of execution. Easy. Pleasant, really, so long as you were the executioner and not the poor soul falling. But Adam... well, Adam might actually survive that, if the rumors about everything Sarif had put in him were true. Even if he didn't, a method like that would have people asking questions. 

And Adam, unexpectedly, had become the sort of person the residents of Golem City might ask questions about. It was as strange as it was infuriating to see happening.

He hadn't claimed Berk's loyalty the way Viktor had, but the man's soft-hearted natural of a wife—well, _she_ liked what Adam had to say. (And she'd liked even more, Viktor was told, the neuropozyne Adam slid into her palm on the week when ARC's supply lines had been disrupted, when her husband was bedridden and shuddering through withdrawal back in the shack they called a home.) The young and strong and disenfranchised newcomers listened to the speeches Viktor gave in the bars while they got well and truly drunk, but the ones who hobbled in with their augmented limbs stuttering and slow and their eyes full of despair flocked to Adam like he was a savior. And Talos, even Talos himself—more than once now he'd listened to one of Viktor's suggestions, Viktor's words crafted to appeal just to him, and then stopped and said, "Well, let's talk to the others first, okay?"

 _The others._ As if they both didn't know just who he meant by that.

Adam didn't make waves. He didn't need to. Where Viktor found the strongest and claimed them for his own—beat them down with his metal fists until they feared him or fed them angry rhetoric until they respected him—Adam focused on the weak. He helped them and comforted them, and they spread his name more quickly and more worshipfully than any tossed-aside soldier with metal limbs and a chip on his shoulder would ever spread Viktor's.

It was not the sort of tactic he would've considered. And now he was paying for his ignorance.

(And he inspired in other ways too, it seemed. The weapons-seller had sighed and curled a lock of her hair around one finger when Viktor came to pick up ARC's latest shipment, then licked her lips and said,"Next time send Adam, won't you?")

Viktor could see that Adam was good-looking. Clean-cut, well-put-together. He'd been a police officer once; that much was obvious. Viktor had accepted those easy explanations at first. It wasn't until his masters had spoken to him that he'd had reason to suspect worse.

Adam Jensen served his own masters, it seemed. _The Juggernaut Collective_. The disorganized group was a joke until it wasn't, a laughing-stock until his masters called him with fear in their voices and demanded word on Golem City's latest aug. Some of them wanted Adam destroyed, others wanted him corralled. Either way, it was clear none of them had planned for the Collective's interference here.

(Viktor knew which method he'd prefer. It wasn't his choice. Nothing was, these days.)

At Viktor's lack of response, Adam's expression went flat. His hand slid back into his pocket—Viktor tensed—and when it came back out he was holding his pack of cigarettes again. He shook one into his hand. The lighter flickered, the tip light, and then Adam held the cigarette between two gleaming black fingers right where it burned brightest, unheeding of the heat, and offered it filter end out to Viktor.

"Ah, you're too kind," Viktor said. He leaned in and down and closed his mouth around the cigarette. His lips brushed against the tips of Adam's fingers as he pulled back with the cigarette between his teeth. One long, slow drag—smoke pulling into his metal lungs, sending warnings flashing through his optical implant—and then he pulled it away once more.

Viktor crushed the thin tube between his fingers, deliberately this time. He held himself still for a long moment before he leaned down once more and blew the smoke caught in his lungs right into Adam's face.

He wasn't entirely sure why he did it. Except... he wanted to provoke Adam into a reaction. Wipe that flat, insincere expression off his face, force the man to show what lurked beneath for once in his life.

No man who was as apathetic as Adam played at being would have joined the Juggernaut Collective in the first place. No man who was as cold as Adam played at being would do the dozens of thankless little tasks the people of Golem City attributed to him. There had to be some rage that had brought him here, some mirror to the hatred that burned inside Viktor. He wanted to meet the animal that Adam had caged inside his custom-built shell of a body.

Adam didn't say anything. Didn't move. Viktor's optical implant spun feedback into his vision: Adam's heart kept the same mechanically-precise BPM, his breathing didn't speed or slow. No physiological signs of heightened adrenaline.

 _What would it take,_ Viktor wondered idly, _to get some emotion out of you?_

Viktor glanced down at his own mismatched hands. He wiggled his left idly, watching hydraulics and cables shift, and then he splayed his fingers wide and wrapped it around Adam Jensen's throat.

A soft _shnick_ echoed through the air. Viktor didn't need to look down to know there was a blade protruding from Adam's wrist; he could feel the tip of it digging into the subdermal armor embedded through him.

"Adam," he said. "Are you always so quick to unleash those?"

"Only when I need them," Adam said.

"You think those will be able to protect you?" There wasn't much in the way of organics left in Viktor's chest—armored skin, metal lungs, cybernetic spine—and for all Adam was his match in augmentation his neck was still warm and human. He'd crush Adam long before Adam's nanoblades could do enough damage to make him falter.

Adam answered his question with a humorless twist of his mouth and a scraping twist of his blade. "I turn up dead, and meanwhile you're stumbling around with stab wounds in your stomach. You think _Doctor_ Rucker won't notice?" He paused a moment. His optical shields turned his expression unreadable, but Viktor could feel the weight of his gaze. "Do you think your masters will be pleased with you?"

Viktor tensed. It was the first time either of them had ever acknowledged their twin loyalties out loud. Up until this moment, Viktor hadn't been sure Adam was aware there was another double agent here. "That's quite the accusation," he said. "Especially coming from _you_."

"I have Rucker's best interests at heart."

"And I have the best interests of the augmented at heart. Though I think you and I have very different ideas of what that means."

There were so many things Adam didn't understand, soft-hearted as he was. The value of terror, the power of rage, the unfortunate necessity of allying with those holding power no matter how personally one might despise them. It was no surprise he'd decided to throw his lot in with the righteous-minded underdogs.

(Unfortunate, though. The things they could have accomplished together...)

"I think we must," Adam said dryly, "seeing as _blowing them up_ doesn't feature in my definition."

With a snarl of rage, Viktor pressed his palm against Adam's throat, stopping just short of the force he'd need enough to cut his air off. The tip of Adam's blade dug deeper into his skin, a warning to match Viktor's.

How much did he know? Viktor could feel his control slipping; his mouth was caught in a snarl, his face a mask of rage. Did he know of Stanek? Of the police station? And—most dangerous of all—might he have an idea of his plans for Růžička? Berk was hardly a safe confidant now, not with his wife a friend of Adam's. Viktor should have been more careful.

All his plans, all his _hopes_... Adam was here to crush them, one by one, and Viktor had no idea how to stop him. He wanted to kill him now and damn the consequences; he longed to see him crushed and dead, see the dangerous uncertainty he represented finally out of his life. But Rucker would know if he killed him like this. Rucker would know, and his mission would be a failure, and even those among the ones he served who wanted Adam Jensen dead wouldn't accept it at that cost.

Viktor couldn't kill him.

So, he did the next best thing and leaned down and kissed him.

He'd expected Adam to flinch away, dig that blade of his in a little deeper, but Adam only arched into the touch. His mouth opened against Viktor's, and when Viktor licked his way into Adam's mouth Adam moaned for him and kissed him back. 

He tasted like cigarette smoke. The noises he made against Viktor's mouth left heat pooling in his stomach. Viktor still wanted to destroy him, but now that desire was taking a different form: hold him down, mark him, make him beg. Let him know which of them was _truly_ the strongest.

Viktor pulled away from Adam's mouth just long enough to focus. He took two steps forward, forcing Adam's back against the shipping crate wall with his hand still on his throat. Viktor's left hand was massive enough that he could keep pressure all down Adam's throat at once. Pressure against his collarbone kept his breathing quick and shallow. Pressure under his chin forced his head up so that he had no choice but to look Adam in the eye. Viktor used his thumb and index finger to tilt Adam's head left and right, examining him with a dispassionate eye as if he were a harvester looking over the next poor soul to be shot and stripped for parts.

"You are full of surprises, aren't you, brother?"

"I could say the same for you." He bared his teeth in something that couldn't be called a smile. "And here I worried we weren't getting along."

"I care for all my brethren," Viktor said. "Even the shiny ones with mouths too smart for their own good. And that, luckily... is something I can help you with."

His flesh-toned right hand was free. He lifted it to cup Jensen's cheek, let the plastic pads of his fingers trail against the seam of his lips. Without needing to be prompted, Adam opened his mouth and sucked two of his fingers in. The sight of it made Viktor's cock twitch. He wanted to fuck deeper into Adam's mouth, replace those fingers with something more satisfying, but he knew that the minute he let go of Adam's throat this game of theirs would end along with it.

They had that in common, didn't they? They both were the sort who came alive at the first sign of danger.

"Ah, so you can do what you're asked. That's good." He pressed his fingers in deeper, felt Adam swallow around them. The heat of his mouth, the way he took Viktor's weighty fingers without choking... "Tell me, with all you have installed—do you have augs to help you with this sort of thing?"

He didn't give Adam the chance to answer. Not when it was so much more satisfying to thrust his fingers slowly in and out and see if he could get Adam to choke.

"You wouldn't be the first, you know. ARC gets many like that. Bodies built from the ground up for another's pleasure, too used to being owned by a wealthy man to know what _they_ want—"

A sudden twist of the nanoblade against his chest told Viktor that he had—entirely unexpectedly—managed to hit a sore spot.

"Oh?" he asked. A quick, rough jerk of his fingers confirmed what he'd already begun to suspect; Adam had no gag reflex. Natural? Or augment-caused? What an interesting feature that would be for Sarif to have built into his military man. "Tell me then, Adam"—he drew his fingers back, let the tips rest just at the entrance to Adam's mouth—"what do _you_ want?"

Adam's mouth twisted in a scowl. "You talking less would be a start."

"Be careful what you ask for, my friend."

"I know exactly what I'm asking for," Adam said. 

His voice was full of steel, his blade was steady against Viktor's stomach—but his cock, when Viktor ran his right hand down from Adam's mouth to grip him there, was as stiff and aching as Viktor's own. Adam hissed into the touch, hips rolling to meet him. Viktor could feel the hatred burning in his gaze even through the barrier of his glasses.

"Well." Viktor smiled. "A pleasant surprise. It seems we can each benefit each other, can't we?"

He fumbled at Adam's belt with fingers too big for the task at hand, roughly pushing his pants down until he'd freed Adam's cock. Adam's skin was warm here, still soft and organic. Lucky for him Viktor was a generous man; he could have simply crushed him in his fist and been done with it. Instead, he loosened his own belt and freed himself, then pressed their bodies closer together so he could wrap his hand around both their cocks together.

" _Ah_ ," Adam said, biting down hard on his lip. He squirmed against Viktor's touch, not as if he wanted to escape but as if he wanted more. His whole body shivered as he tried to slide against the friction of Viktor's hand and cock.

With a snarl, Viktor forced him back against the wall. Adam already controlled enough here. He had absolutely no intention of letting him make any decisions in this. No—if anything, it would do him good to keep him wanting and aching. Teach him the value of humility, of listening to those with more understanding of the world. And, Viktor thought, most importantly, of _not interfering where you weren't wanted._

Viktor let his spread fingers flex, pressing his palm more firmly against Adam's throat. Adam gasped shallowly, body going tense for a split second—and then he forced himself to relax. Viktor could feel the way his body went loose and slack under Viktor's hand as Adam's training kicked in. He could also feel, very distinctly, as Adam's nanoblade dug in just deep enough to draw a shallow line of blood across Viktor's stomach.

A challenge, then. Viktor leaned in to rasp against Adam's ear. "You should learn when to give up," he said. "Otherwise you might find yourself in trouble someday."

Adam would be struggling to draw breath enough to speak by now. Not that he really needed to. His dismissive snort was answer enough.

Neither of them knew how to back down. Viktor slid his hand across their cocks in a slow, steady rhythm; with the other, he leaned harder and harder on Adam, cutting his air by increments. Never enough to kill him or to damage those expensive augs, just enough to get his meaning across. All Adam had to do was pull his own hands back and let this finally be over.

If Adam relented, he'd let him go free. If Adam relented, he'd _tear him apart_.

Viktor never had to figure out which he would do. Every time he upped the ante, Adam responded in kind. The blade dug deeper and deeper, his wrist flexed tighter and tighter, until the pain and the pleasure were so intertwined that Viktor couldn't even hope to separate them in his mind. There was just him and Adam and the blood pounding in his ears—and the overwhelming pulse of anger and adrenaline that beat through his veins until the almost felt like some sort of sick affection.

What a picture this would make. He could imagine Talos's face at the discovery: his two best men, bodies upright and slick with sweat, locked together upright where each had killed the other. The thought sent a pulse of heat through Viktor's veins and circuits together. Now _there_ would be an interesting way to go.

Viktor slammed his hand against Adam's neck, closing off his windpipe, stopping just short of crushing his throat completely. He took the retribution without hesitating—the blade had to be in _deep_ by now, the pain of it was a jagged and prickling heat that even his augs couldn't keep at bay—and focused on nothing but the feeling of his hand around himself and Adam together. Friction

He came first, if only by a few seconds; Viktor let out a deep moan, dropping his head down almost to Adam's shoulder as he let himself finally have what he wanted. He watched with a sort of strange, shivering fascination as his release striped across Adam's cock and the front of his expensive pants.

That, it seemed, was all that Adam needed—with a soft, barely perceptible noise, one Viktor felt more as a vibration against his palm than any real sound—he shifted his hips against Viktor's hand as best he was able and came.

Adam's head thudded back against the wall. He took one gasping breath, another, and then his nanoblades retracted with a soft metallic hiss. Blood welled up in the gash he'd left behind, spilled over and began a slow crawl down the planes of Viktor's abdomen. The heat of it felt strange against his armor-studded skin.

"So," Adam said finally. His voice was a dry, rattling whisper. Viktor could hear the imprint his hands had left on the man. "This come standard in the ARC welcome pack?"

Viktor scowled. "You assume that you are welcome here."

Adam actually smiled at him then. It was an insincere thing: half his mouth curled in mockery, one eyebrow raised above the rim of his glasses. He was cleaning himself up as he spoke—pants zipped up, trench coat pulled back down, a hand through his hair so it looked differently messy than it had before.

"Nice talking to you, _brother_. We'll have to do that again sometime." He offered Viktor a sarcastic little wave. Then, without so much as missing a beat, he took two steps sideways and leapt neatly over the railing he'd been leaning on before.

Viktor watched as he fell, watched as electricity crackled in a gold-tinged shield around him before he hit the ground. Adam had angled for one of the upper floors, one with fewer people to see him land, but Viktor had no question that new rumors of what Adam could do would make it around Golem City twice over before the day was out. A clever trick, that.

With a scoff, Viktor turned away. Lucky he hadn't thrown him over the side after all, then. That would've been difficult to explain to Talos.

Still, though, the memory played through his head: the heat of Adam's skin, the sharp burning pain of the blade, the way he looked when he was trying not to lose control. Viktor pressed the edges of the wound on his stomach together, waiting for the cables threaded through his armor to kick in and knit the skin back together. He smeared the trail of blood onto his shirt in a long streak, then hiked his clothes up and tucked himself back in.

At least he looked clean enough now. No one bothered to question it if he came back with a bloodstain or two these days. He felt sweaty and grimy and satisfied; still, there was a fire burning under his skin. His augments ached with the urge to activate, to rip and tear into the enemy who was no longer standing before him.

They'd have to do this sometime again, Adam had said. Viktor agreed with that. Whether Adam would survive their next time... well, that remained to be seen.

Still, it would be a shame to cut off a promising source of _information_ too quickly. Perhaps the ones he worked for didn't need to hear just how much Adam knew already.

Viktor nodded to himself and, finally decided, silenced his augs once more with a mental cue. He slipped back, letting shadows cover him, until there was nothing left but a rapidly fading heat signature to show than anyone had ever stood in this neglected corner of Golem City.


End file.
